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After the Bell: How the mini budget briefing came about (hint – I helped)

After the Bell: How the mini budget briefing came about (hint – I helped)
This Wednesday, an event takes place (as it usually does this time of year) with the grandiose name of the Medium-Term Budget Policy Statement (MTBPS). In the press, we summarise this event as ‘the mini budget’. But in fact, that is something of a misnomer because in many ways it’s actually the maxi budget.

The government budget statement in February sets out in detail government’s income estimates and spending plans mainly for the fiscal year. The “mini budget” technically tries to look further ahead and at least outline the principles of what future budgets might look like. This is consistent with progressive government planning, which by rights should be focused on the longer term. Obvs.

I’m happy to say that I am partly responsible for the mini budget briefing happening at all. Well … I’m moderately happy because the circumstances are a little touchy. 

Long ago when I was a parliamentary reporter, members of the press had offices actually in the Parliament building. It’s one of the ironies of SA’s democratic dispensation that even during the painfully undemocratic apartheid years, journalists in Parliament were treated with a degree of favour which has regrettably faded. 

A few years into the democratic era, the ANC booted all the journalists out of Parliament and into a building next door. This was partly because the journalists had the inconvenient habit of raising tricky issues in the lobby as politicians entered and exited Parliament.

But before this happened, Parliament had a loudspeaker system that allowed politicians to hear what was happening in Parliament while luxuriating in their offices. Those loudspeakers were also installed in the journalists’ offices, which was frankly a godsend because it allowed the press corps to drink, smoke and write news articles simultaneously while keeping one ear out for what was being said in the House (usually not much, or not much of consequence). There was a drinks trolley that parliamentary messengers brought around every afternoon at 4.30 from which parliamentarians (and journalists) could order. We did. Copiously. I am not making this up. 

Anyway, one thing the democratic order did do to improve transparency was to open up parliamentary committees to the press. For every department, there is a parliamentary oversight committee, which is where a lot of the real work gets done. This meant an instantaneous 20-fold increase in the amount of work for parliamentary journalists, but it got the press closer to the nitty-gritty of policymaking.

Broadcast


As it happens, these committee rooms also had a recording system, which also broadcast to the whole of the parliamentary complex. It was, and is, possible for parliamentary committees to meet in camera, particularly if market-sensitive information was being discussed. 

On one occasion, the finance department was briefing parliamentarians on the state of the following year’s budget in camera, but they forgot to switch off the broadcast system; I happened to be sitting in my office at the time. By chance, I had the audio system switched to this particular committee room. I was astounded to hear a long and very frank discussion about the upcoming budget, complete with some real shockers. Honestly, I really didn’t know what to do. I took some loose notes and discussed the issue with the Reuters parliamentary correspondent at the time, Brendan Boyle (a great reporter, now sadly no longer with us), and we agreed we should treat the presentation as “off the record”.

However, the word got out, and the next thing I was required for a full-court-press phone call with my editor, the political editor, and the deputy editor who wanted to know where the damn story was. They argued that since the information was broadcast on the parliamentary system, essentially it was in the public domain. You can’t describe a meeting to which hundreds of people can listen as “in camera”, they argued.

Brendan and I again discussed the issue and decided we better write it up because if there was anything market moving, best to make sure the information was generally known and not isolated to any particular group. But I don’t think Gill Marcus, who was the chair of the finance committee at the time, ever really forgave me for abusing – in her view – our parliamentary privilege.

The outcome was, in the end, benign. The markets didn’t react even though if I recall, the deficit target had moved up. But the sky most certainly didn’t fall on anyone’s head. As they often do, markets appreciate demonstrably unvarnished information, even if it’s bad news, because knowing the precise content of the bad news is better than wondering what and how much bad news just might be out there. 

To their credit, the Treasury recognised this fact. The atmosphere at the time was definitely in favour of increasing transparency, unlike now with an atmosphere generally dedicated to providing less information. But in any event, the following year the Treasury decided to speak openly in October about the state of the budget and ever since then, SA has had this week’s event on the calendar. Later, the Treasury decided to extend the character of the briefing even further from an informal report-back format to a longer term-planning meeting presented by the finance minister.

And to think, it all happened because a committee secretary forgot to flick a switch. Such are the vagaries of life. DM